


She Needs A Break

by God1643



Series: Micro-Stories [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Carrying, Confidence Boost, F/M, OOC behaviour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 20:08:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17608082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/God1643/pseuds/God1643
Summary: Harry's had enough of Hermione cramming for the exams, and well, the Potters have never been known for really examining whether or not a plan is very solid.So... Well, this little thing happens...





	She Needs A Break

Wiry arms, muscled and corded from fighting gravity on a broom in high intensity matches of Quidditch, wrapped tight around her waist from behind and lifted her clean off of the seat.

The brown haired witch squalled in shock and began offering quite loud protests as the boy grabbed her school bag and shouldered it, tossing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She saw him wave to a huffing Madam Pince through her curtain of mousy brown hair, who rolled her eyes in response.

“Exams are ages away, Hermy! You need to relax!” He called loudly as he exited the library, ignoring the girl’s squirming and pushing.

“I wish not to relax, Harald James Potter!” Hermione protested loudly, punching against his back.

“Well it’s good your best friend isn’t giving you a choice!” Harry returned merrily, whistling as he strode down the stone corridors. A group of three Hufflepuff girls in their year looked at him as though he was insane.

“Ladies.” He greeted, tipping an imaginary hat.

“Put me down, Harry!” Hermione demanded.

“You’re far too stressed!” He returned without the slightest hint of remorse, turning right. Seamus, approaching the other way down the hall took one look at the situation and burst into laughter, collapsing onto a bench and offering no help.

He kicked open the wide doors to the Infirmary.

“Poppy, darling?” Harry called. The matron looked up from her desk and stood with a roll of her eyes.

“Yes, Mister Potter?” She queried, wearing her most severe frown that she reserved only for when she desired to make young bullies wet themselves.

It did not faze Harry, even a little bit.

“I have a severely wound-up friend with me, who I believe needs assistance.” Harry said. He bent down low in a remarkable show of flexibility and strength, using only his arms to sweep Hermione into a vertical position and plant her back onto her simple shoes.

“Ah, Miss Granger.” She greeted, and turned to Harry. “Exam season again?” Harry nodded in return, solemn. Hermione made to leave, her indignation reaching critical mass, when Harry’s calloused hand shot out like a viper to latch gently onto her wrist.

She whirled on him.

“What?!” She bellowed, clearly displeased. His eyes, greener than ever, met hers with a concern rarely seen, and she felt her brain screech to a halt in waiting.

“Please, Hermione. All joking aside, I’m worried about you.” Harry murmured. Hermione felt her resolve crack and break, and she turned with an astronomically sized huff to face Madam Pomfrey.

“Very well.” She demurred. Poppy nodded, her frown softening, and gestured for Hermione to sit on the nearest bed.

Harry chuckled.

“Just what is so funny, Mister Potter?” Poppy queried, turning to him as she sorted the parchment that would mark down any symptoms and record the scan.

“I could’ve sworn you reserved that bed for me.” He remarked, tapping the wood and brass plaque on the white enamel frame near the foot of the bed.

“Young Miss Granger has spent enough time around you that, with that brain of hers, she knows you far better than you know yourself. She has earned this bed, as well.” Poppy returned without missing a beat, waving her wand over Hermione’s chest and over her limbs, finishing with a tap to her forehead and a murmured incantation.

Hermione flushed at the praise.

“Huh. I never thought about it that way.” Said Harry thoughtfully, looking at Hermione with a new softness in his eyes, one more of his hundreds of gates of vulnerability dropping before her, and for her alone.

Poppy lowered her gaze to read the parchment.

“She is, physically fine. Her mind, on the other hand, shows significant strain and stress. Rest is necessary for this to cure.” She turned to Hermione. “How many hours a night do you sleep?”

“Anywhere from three to six.” Hermione returned hesitantly.

“That is insufficient. For the next two weeks, you will sleep under my observation, here.” Poppy declared. Hermione gave a glare to Poppy, who merely met it with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

Hermione turned to point a finger at Harry, narrowing her eyes.

“This is your fault.” She accused.

“This is my concern and love’s fault, yes.” He returned evenly, an eyebrow cocked in challenge. Hermione was struck speechless.

“I will return at eight in the morning to escort Hermione to breakfast.” Proclaimed Harry to Poppy, who nodded. Harry walked around the bed, hesitantly, and clumsily planted a quick kiss on Hermione’s cheek.

Stepping back, blushing slightly, he sped from the room.

Poppy erupted into laughter.


End file.
